073. City of Slaves -1 (Part One)

**

In the campsite of Aslan's army.

Countless tents had been set up on the barren wasteland.

"Uwaaaah! It hurts... It freaking hurts! Healer. Where's a healer?!"

Soldiers were crying out in anguish while the medics were urgently running around here and there.

They stitched up the grievous wounds and poured healing potions on the injuries to heal their patients.

The current status of Aslan's camp was truly wretched to behold.

The number of wounded soldiers were mind-numbingly numerous, while quite a few of the still-healthy soldiers were holding onto their stomachs out of starvation. They were also visibly panting laboriously.

Even the Necromancers, usually treated as high-ranking nobles, hadn't had a proper drink of water for a while now.